


Fact in the Fiction

by jugandbettsdetectiveagency



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-24 00:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12001485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugandbettsdetectiveagency/pseuds/jugandbettsdetectiveagency
Summary: After Archie's rejection, Betty finds Jughead in a booth at Pop's.





	Fact in the Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn’t a new chapter of one of my WIP, but writing has been hard for me and I was gonna take anything I could get. Also I’m not sure this fic translated well from my head to the page but oh well, I’ve managed to write something for the first time in weeks.

_“There is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there." **– American Psycho**_

 ~

“But I’m asking you now, right now, if you love me, Archie? Or even… like me?” Betty’s eyes were impossibly wide, shimmering verdantly with unshed tears beneath the streetlamp in front of the Cooper residence, her lower lip red with worrying.

“Of course I love you, Betty!” Archie implored. “But I can’t give you the answer you want,” he finished with a sympathetic sigh, his thick brows knit together with torment; he could see how his words were hurting his closest friend, the first tear rolling down her cheek with a defeated blink.

“Why?” she asked, trying to keep some of the exasperated desperation out of her voice, but knowing that she’d ultimately failed. The pity in Archie’s expression somehow hurt more than his rejection.

“You are _so_ perfect. I’ve never been good enough for you. I’ll never _be_ good enough for you.” Betty couldn’t look at him anymore, averting her eyes as she nodded in disbelief. _Perfect._ The very thing that she’d tried so hard to be in the hopes of gaining more than something akin to brotherly affection from her lifelong neighbour, and here it was being thrown back in her face. She’d truly outdone herself, reached her mark and soared above, according to the redheaded boy taking anxious steps towards her in comfort. Unable to find her voice she turned before he could reach her and closed the door on him softly, knowing even then that he wouldn’t be far away, that she couldn’t escape him, still not knowing whether she even wanted to.

Betty tread dejectedly up the stairs, hoping that her footsteps didn’t sound as leaden as they felt, not wanting to alert the rest of the household to her humiliation. She wrapped herself back in the fleece-lined, pink blanket she’d thrown over herself as soon as she’d reached the sanctity of her bedroom after leaving Cheryl’s and hit play on her laptop. The familiar scenes of _Casablanca_ continued to play, like they had so many times before, on the screen but somehow they felt different now, tainted. Her whole body felt restless and uncomfortable, as if her mind had been housed in something foreign and ill-fitting and Betty slammed the lid of her computer with a little more force than necessary.

She couldn’t stand to be here a moment longer, inside her pristine, pink prison cell, mere feet away from the boy she’d imagined would finally agree to be hers this year. They’d been floating in this bubble of suburban idealism for their entire lives, drifting from milestone to milestone, Betty setting up the scenes like something out of a Nora Ephron movie, hoping beyond hope that Archie was playing out his part when her character was out of shot. And then Veronica Lodge has swept into _Pop’s,_ the epitome of a brief encounter, and the bubble burst, and Betty was left realising that she’d been the only one who’d read the script.

Betty huffed out a groan and threw back the blanket, blood suddenly boiling. She spared a moment to take a pill out of the unavoidably orange pot on her vanity and drop it hastily down the drain, knowing that her mother would be counting how many were left, like she had been doing religiously since she suspected Betty had stopped taking her medication. Well, she was right, Betty supposed. She grabbed her book off her side table and made her way back out of the house as quietly as possible, eyes pointedly averted from the house across the street as the cold night air hit her reddened cheeks.

She enjoyed the pleasant burn in her calves as she strode purposefully through town in her heels, pace nothing but brisk until the unmistakable glow of neon signs washed over her. A preliminary glance through the sticker-covered windows revealed that the diner was relatively empty, which was unsurprising for this time of night, especially when everyone was most likely still engaged in post-dance after parties. Nevertheless, the sight of empty booths and the unoccupied, aging waitress tapping her fingers absentminded against the countertop loosened some of the tension in her chest as she pushed open the door.

One booth was taken, however, the occupant glancing her way at the tinkle of the bell. He smirked, leaning back against the red vinyl. It bowed beneath his weight, creaking and settling against his back.

“Of all the gin joints in the all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine,” he said wryly, his mouth lifting in a crooked grin. Betty rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop her own responding smile regardless, biting her lip as she slipping into the booth opposite him.

“Jughead Jones. Since when did _Pop’s_ become yours?” she teased, mirroring his relaxed position, all but the slight nervous set of her shoulders. His expression shifted into some semblance of seriousness as he gestured to his belongings spread out across the table top, from his now-closed laptop to the myriad of empty cups and polished off plates.

“I think I’ve made my mark,” he replied with a hint of pride. She clicked her tongue at him good-naturedly before turning to catch the waitress’ eye.

“Two milkshakes, please. Vanilla and Chocolate,” Betty said with a sweet smile. At Jughead’s snort a stray giggle burst through her lips, and she cleared her throat quickly to compose herself. The waitress gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher but wrote the order down anyway, slipping the notepad into the pocket of her apron.

“Let me clear these plates away for you, honey,” she said instead, balancing the dirty dishes across her forearms in only the way someone with experience knew how before making her way back behind the counter.

“Buying me a milkshake? I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he quipped, flashing a grin. It was Betty’s turn to snort, laced with affection, as she settled more comfortably in her seat.

Betty tried to avoid looking into Jughead’s eyes once they were alone, not trusting herself not to blush at the mischief she knew would be playing amid the waves of blue. She occupied herself with drawing shapes in the spilled sugar crystals left on the table. “Burning the midnight oil?” she asked lightly, turning her gaze to the laptop he’d closed upon her approach earlier. Jughead laughed, looking at the _Coca-Cola_ clock on the wall behind the counter.

“Technically it’s the eleven thirty oil, but yeah, I guess.” She risked a glance at him now that his attention was averted. Something appeared different since the last time she saw him. Betty couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about the sharp angle of his jaw, the definition in his cheekbones, the bow of his lips, that seemed all the more solid and sure than he had before. She let out a muted sigh as she ran her eyes over him discreetly – she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed him.

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Juggie,” she whispered, causing his gaze to turn back towards her. There was a small glimmer of guilt settling between the usual brightness of his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry…” he trailed off, unsure, lifting on hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck, a trait she recognised he shared with Archie. “Guess I got a little caught up in the south side,” he mumbled, peeking up to meet her eyes. There was a wry resignation in his tone that made her lips tilt downwards, brows drawing together as she began to shake her head.

“We’re still here, Jug. We’re not that far away, you know that, right?” Betty asked, ducking her head to hold his gaze. Since he’d transferred to the south side in elementary school, Betty was sure she could count the amount of times she’d seen Jughead on one hand. He studied her for a moment, drawing his lower lip between his teeth before letting it go with a pop, allowing his mouth to release a heavy exhale.

“Yeah, I know, Betts,” he replied with an attempted smile, only one half of his mouth garnering the energy to participate. He chuckled when her frown didn’t lessen. “I know, I promise,” Jughead reassured her, running the tip of his finger back and forth over the closed lid of his laptop.

“You alright, honey?” the waitress asked as she deposited the two milkshakes in front of Betty, taking in her disgruntled expression. It didn’t even take the time she needed to look up to plaster her best placating smile across her features, shoulders straightening and teeth gleaming.

“Yes, everything is perfect. Thank you,” she said sweetly, pushing the chocolate milkshake over to Jughead’s side of the table. The waitress hovered for a moment before nodding and walking away, only sparing one glance over her shoulder towards their booth as she went. Jughead cupped the frosted glass in his hands but didn’t move to take a sip as he watched Betty intently, something she couldn’t fathom hiding in the creases around his eyes. She sighed, leaning forwards to capture the straw between her lips and take a long pull of the creamy drink. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until the sweet vanilla flavour hit her taste buds, or just how much she’d been craving on of Pop’s specialties – something full of sugar and calories. The appreciative moan slipped out before she had chance to stop it, louder than she’d intended, eyes closing as she savoured the flavour.

“I'll have what she's having,” Jughead murmured cheekily, and Betty’s eyes snapped open, the warmth of her deep blush spreading across her chest and creeping up her neck. The teasing mirth in his expression quelled her embarrassment and she took a second sip, her lips curling into a smile, to mirror his, around the straw.

“You haven’t changed,” Betty told him fondly, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. There was something about his unrelenting attention on her that was making her shy.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Jughead shot back, the self-deprecation in his humour evident. He steepled his fingers around his milkshake as he became serious. “Have you changed, Betty?” he asked, fixing her with a piercing look. She felt the tell-tale twitch in her fingers as they threatened to curl in on themselves. She took a deep breath and forced her lips into a smile once more.

“I’m on the cheer squad now, and run track. And I’ve asked Principal Weatherbee if I can start up _The Blue and Gold_ again; editing the school paper will really help my college applications. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage if I pick up those extra hours in the tutor centre my mom suggested I take but…” Betty’s voice trailed off as she noticed the way his mouth was turning down at the corners, shoulders hunching as if in dejection. “What?” She hadn’t meant it to come out defensively but that’s how it sounded nevertheless.

“That’s quite the list of achievements you’ve got there.” She straightened, hackles rising at the accusation in his voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, lips twisting. Jughead shook his head sadly, pulling his laptop forward and toying with the lid. She was _proud_ of the things she was accomplishing.

Wasn’t she?

“Why did you come here tonight?” he asked without ceremony, avoiding her question. The question startled her, cheeks burning as memories of the evening flooded back in. Despite her embarrassment she couldn’t help but feel the confession balancing on the tip of her tongue – Jughead had always had that effect on her, making her spill her secrets without a second thought for the preservation of her pride. He offered a comfort she hadn’t come across anywhere else other than in the boy with the crown-shaped beanie. Betty had always liked the disarming quality the accessory held; it reminded her of nights spent watching reruns of _The Twilight Zone_ with her dad when her mom would be working late at the office, resembling one of the character’s nostalgic outfits in her favourite episode. It stood in such sharp contrast with Jughead’s outwardly brooding persona. While he seemed to be all dark colours and sardonic wit, Betty was aware that beneath the layers he presented to the world Jughead was one of the most compassionate people she knew.

“There was a dance at school, and a party at Cheryl’s after. I kind of told Archie… how I felt about him, and he…” Betty took a breath, trying to make her gaze unwavering as she looked up. “He didn’t feel the same.” There was a finality to her tone that implied the topic was done being discussed. She sipped at her milkshake to avoid having to say more. Jughead only nodded, lifting the lid of his computer and poising his fingers above the keys.

“Time for a new chapter,” he explained before the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard filled the air around them. Betty watched him for a moment, noting the concentration in his brow as he wrote. Time for a new chapter he’d said. It felt oddly pointed.

When she realised that he wasn’t going to say more she picked up the book she’d brought with her, thumbing through the pages to find her place as she worked her way down the milkshake remaining in her glass. There was something otherworldly about the moment. Sitting in this booth that looked like it belonged neither in the present nor quite in the past, when it was almost tomorrow but still today, with the boy she considered her friend but wasn’t sure she knew anymore, Betty was overcome with a wave of peaceful tranquillity in the face of uncertainty.

“I thought it would be different,” she found herself saying suddenly. Jughead looked at her over his laptop, raising one dark eyebrow in an invitation for her to continue. “High school, my life,” she began, pausing as she grappled internally with her words. “I had this picture of how things would be, how I thought I wanted them to be. I was going to make the cheerleading squad and tell Archie how I felt and things were going to go as they were supposed to. And now that I’ve done it…”

“Expectation didn’t live up to reality,” he supplied, not a question. Betty consciously flattened her palms on the table as she nodded.

“It felt like this huge _thing_ that I had to live up to, these expectation that I’d set myself. But I’m tired, Juggie. I think I realised when Archie told me that he didn’t like me that way that I had been picturing us for so long in my head that I’d forgotten about reality. I kind of felt _relieved_. As if he’d given me permission to stop playing the same scenario over in my head when all it did was exhaust me. And somehow that feels worse, like I’ve failed at something monumental and there’s no way to put it right,” she sighed, blinking rapidly. The weight of his hand over hers felt warm and familiar.

“Wait for the common sense of the morning,” he whispered, running his thumb over the smooth skin of the back of her hand. “Everything always seems more overwhelming in the cover of dark.” She gave him a watery smile, relaxing beneath the soothing motion he was offering.

“ _American Psycho_?” Jughead asked after a few more moments of companionable silence, save the faint click of his keys, the boiling of the ancient coffee pot behind the counter and the distant sizzling of bacon in a pan. Betty tilted the cover of her book towards herself as if she’d forgotten what she was reading. She looked back to meet his smirk, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“What can I say? I’m fascinated by the beast within,” she joked, earning herself a rarely heard laugh from him while he shook his head with obvious fondness.

“You’re changing, Betty Cooper,” he declared, hints of amusement still bouncing across his face. There was no accusation in his tone this time. Something within her swelled with delight as she considered his words carefully. Perhaps she was changing, settling into herself for the first time in a long time, and that was definitely a good thing.

“I should get going,” she said reluctantly as she swirled her straw around the melting remains of whipped cream in the bottom of her glass. It was well past midnight now, and her window for sneaking back into the house was getting smaller as each second passed.

“Okay,” Jughead replied, and Betty couldn’t help but hope the reluctance she saw in him was real.

“I’ll see you soon though, Juggie. I will, won’t I? We won’t leave it so long this time?” Betty questioned, unable to quell the slight creeping desperation in her words as she lingered at the edge of the booth. There was something unreadable in his eyes now, dull and fading, as he looked up at her, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes as it had done earlier in the night.

“I’m not sure, Betty. I could say I hope so, but that would be too selfish of me,” he muttered, tilting his head so a few wayward curls fell over his forehead, shielding his face. Betty felt her brows knit together in confusion, unsure of his meaning. Before she could probe further he’d blinked and the sadness in his features had gone, replaced by something else entirely. “You’re doing good, Betts. I’m happy for you; you were always my favourite,” he told her with a lopsided grin. She blushed bashfully, stepping backwards towards the door.

“You too, Jug,” she whispered before turning and heading out into the night.

***

“Betty!” The sound of someone calling her name made her jump, almost stumbling as her body tingled with the adrenaline of being caught doing something she shouldn’t, namely being out after curfew.

“Archie?” Her voice was only a little above a whisper but still felt too loud in the still night air. “What are you doing out here?” She stopped in front of her house as he leapt off his porch steps and tiptoed gracefully over to the edge of the pavement opposite her.

“Waiting for you. I know you probably don’t want to see me right now, I get it, but I saw you leave earlier and just wanted to make sure you got home okay,” he confessed nervously. Despite herself Betty felt affection bubbling up in her chest, but was surprised to note that the usual pang of longing didn’t accompany it this time.

“Well, thank you,” she replied somewhat lamely, turning to head inside.

“Where did you go?” Archie asked curiously, causing her step to falter. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she replied.

“Just to _Pop’s_. I… talked to Jughead.” Archie’s face twisted in confusion.

“Jughead?” he laughed lightly. “Man, we haven’t ‘talked’ to Jughead in _years_ , since we were kids. We’re a little old to still be thinking about our imaginary friends, aren’t we?” Archie teased, tucking his hands inside his pockets. Betty stilled, trying not to let her panic show on her face.

“Yeah,” she choked out weakly. Her security blanket was wrenched from her grasp in one single moment, ice water pouring down her spine and chilling her to her core. Archie’s light expression faltered at the distant look on Betty’s face.

“Err, yeah. I’m glad you’re home, Betty. It’s late, we should both get inside. I’ll… talk to you tomorrow?” Betty nodded stiffly. “Goodnight,” Archie called as he watched her walk slowly to her front door.

Inside her room, Betty reached for the half-empty pill pot on her vanity, uncapped it and swallowed one of the small, white pills inside.

Inside _Pop’s Diner_ , at an unoccupied booth, an untouched chocolate milkshake sat, slowly melting, beside an empty glass.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you get what I was going for, and that the clues to Jughead not being 'real' were at least a little bit noticeable in retrospect. Hopefully I'll get back into the swing of writing soon!


End file.
